


Buttons

by fikidurin



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26147692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fikidurin/pseuds/fikidurin
Summary: Kili has a vendetta against buttons.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	Buttons

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt, "Buttons".

Kili hates buttons.

Some part of him knows that hatred is irrational, that it isn’t logical to feel such ire at the sight of the ornate metal clasps that adorn the royal finery. 

Yet the moment he sees a silvery glint decorating the front of Fili’s tunic, he gnashes his teeth and clenches his fists against the desire to tear the fabric to shreds.

It isn’t the buttons, exactly.

Just what they represent.

They represent loneliness. Rejection. Days spent wandering the halls alone, and nights spent in a bed where one side is cold, devoid of its usual occupant.

Days without buttons mean no duties. Fili’s attention belongs to him, they can fish and hunt together, and spend nights under the stars, making love under a canopy of constellations.

 _Those days are few and far between now_ , Kili laments, heading towards the Royal Wing, his fingertips brushing along the carved stone walls. They feel cold, like him, like everything under this cursed mountain.

When the finery comes out, it means council meetings, endless debates, a bunch of dwarves that had left them to their own devices when it came to taking back Erebor, who now believe they have the right to decide what’s best for the mountain.

Days with buttons mean Fili trying to wrest control of a kingdom that means nothing to them.

Erebor should have been Thorin’s. Fili should have had years to grow to love Erebor, to learn the history they had heard spoken of but never experienced themselves. Thorin’s death at the hands of Azog propelled Fili into the spot of an interim king.

A king in name, but who has yet to receive an official coronation.

There had been too much loss, too much to rebuild to bother with such trivialities. Fili claimed that he and the rest of the Company had taken back Erebor, and more than proven their status. He did not need a coronation to be king.

That excuse won't hold up much longer, and Kili knows that everything will change the moment Fili is crowned.

He’ll need an heir. To continue Durin’s line, Fili will be forced to marry, and Kili will be forgotten, a crown Prince with no duties and no interest in staying under the mountain.

Already, he can feel Fili withdrawing. When did they last spend the night together? When did they last steal a moment for themselves?

Kili pushes open the door to his room, his stomach like lead and his heart beating out a hollow rhythm.

“Where’ve you been? I’ve looked everywhere!”

Kili starts at the voice coming from his bed, and gives a half-shrug. “Just walking. Didn’t realise you’d need me today.”

He feels a flare of anger as his gaze drifts over Fili, sprawled out on his bed, metal adornments catching the light from the candles.

Those _fucking_ buttons.

“Take that off,” he demands abruptly. “Or get out.”

“What?” Fili props himself up on his elbows, blinking in confusion. “Take what off?”

Kili glares at him, directing his ire to a sentient target. “That tunic. Take it off.”

Fili frowns, and makes no move to do so. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but…”

Kili scoffs. “Maybe I just like remembering that I’m talking to my brother and not my king.”

Fili’s brow furrows. “I’ll never be your king,” he says quietly. “We’re always equals. I would never dream of commanding you.”

Kili turns away, feeling a sting of shame. “No,” he admits. “And yet you command my heart anyway. Regardless of how unhappy that makes me.”

He hears Fili get up from the bed but can’t make himself turn around. He stands still, arms folded, until he feels Fili’s bare arms envelop him and an exhale of hot breath against his neck.

He barely manages to repress the shiver.

“Kee,” Fili presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I know I’ve been busy lately, but I’m trying my hardest to make a kingdom, a home for us—”

The words ignite an explosion in Kili’s stomach and he yanks himself out of Fili’s grasp and whirls around. “This is _not_ my home!”

The words ring in the silence between them, and Kili can feel the prickle of tears behind his eyes.

“I’m dying here, Fee. I don’t think I knew it till now, but I can’t carry on like this. We weren’t raised to be obeyed, to be wealthy, and all the gold in this mountain doesn’t make me happy. I miss how easy it used to be. When we would work in the forges, on the farms, in the markets. When we would spend days in the forest hunting, and answer to nobody but ourselves.”

The tears begin to fall, but Kili suddenly feels powerless to stop them. He needs to say this, needs Fili to hear it.

“Erebor was just supposed to be a _story_ , a fable that we’d never get to see. And then when we took it back, it was supposed to be Thorin on the throne. Not you. No matter what, you were supposed to be with me.”

“I’m right here, Kili,” Fili reaches for him again and Kili goes willingly, burying his face into Fili’s neck and inhaling deeply. The earthy, woodsy scent is familiar and soothing, as is the hand brushing through his hair. “It would take a lot more than a crown to part me from you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Kili whispers, tears drying at the oath no matter how much he fights believing it. The words are barely audible, and yet he knows Fili has caught them.

“I can, and I am,” Fili tells him firmly. “I have no answers for how to fix this right now, but I’ll find some. I’ve been miserable without you the last few weeks, and you’re right, this can’t carry on. Even if it means giving up Erebor to Dain.”

Kili withdraws just enough to meet his brother’s gaze. “I thought you wanted to be king.”

Fili shrugs. “All my life I’ve been told that one day I would be. _Want_ was never part of it. I don’t know if it makes me happy. But I know that you do. So I’ll do whatever I need to.”

Kili nods, and viciously yanks one of the buttons from Fili’s tunic, meeting his brother’s gaze defiantly.

“Feel better?” Fili asks dryly, and takes Kili’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “What do you have against buttons anyway?”

Kili savours the touch of Fili’s mouth brushing over his knuckles. Right now, he feels content.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them! Leave a comment below, or even a kudos.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ [fikidurin](https://fikidurin.tumblr.com)


End file.
